Let's all say a huge great big hello to the most inaptly named village in the French Riviera. Port Grimaud evokes images of a dark town with black buildings, lots of iron work, fire, smoke and probably loadsa horrible little goblins holding lanterns and grunting at you as you walk past (...too far?). But in actuality, despite its nasty little name, it's a really cute place. Kinda like Venice. Just with a lack of overpriced gondolas and, praise the lord, far fewer selfie sticks.

Good things come to those who wait. Good things also come to those who wait four days longer than expected because their Easyjet flight got cancelled and they had to return back to work with their tail between their legs for three whole days before finally flying out to Nice on the second attempt. Yep, true story. Anyway - I am finally here in Plan de la Tour, France and I don't ever ever ever want to leave.

You know those
moments in life that are so freaking babein’ that you have to pinch yourself? But not too
hard because you sure as hell don’t wanna wake up from such a heavenly stupor? Well I suppose that if you're a super positive Pamela they can happen a lot but if you’re a run of the mill Ronda like me and
practically every other human bean on earth, bar maybe Ghandi (who, by the way,
must have been EXHAUSTED from all that loving and general goodliness because I
can barely even muster a genuine smile before 9am) then they don’t
come round all that often….but when a pinch me moment does rock up at your door it’s like Christmas and chocolate and
Channing rolled into one.

I feel as though if good ol' Leo da Vinci was still alive and kicking in 2k16 he'd stop painting Mona with her silly, smug face and start painting the architectural delights of London instead. Yeah baby I've been to London again and hell yes I'm tough enough I've fallen victim to the LondonLoveBug once more. That shit is more contagious than bubonic bloody plague. London is the tits. The titty tit tits. See previous over enthusiastic London post here.